


go ask alice

by some_stars



Series: they do drugs [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Recreational Drug Use, just some wholesome teens making their own drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/pseuds/some_stars
Summary: Fringilla makes a discovery; Yennefer partakes.
Relationships: Fringilla Vigo/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: they do drugs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204439
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29





	go ask alice

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to limerental for [inspiring this whole concept](https://limerental.tumblr.com/post/645306450719227904/yennefer-when-theyre-young-being-like-come-on), albeit unintentionally. Also thanks to Gavilan for betaing!

Yennefer was in the library when Fringilla found her. She wasn’t reading, though she had a heavy tome spread open in front of her and her eyes skipped regularly across the page. After over a year at Aretuza, she’d learned not only the truly hidden places like the caverns beneath Tor Lara, but also where to go when she wanted to hide in plain sight and have a moment to herself.

She was meant to be with Fringilla at the moment, actually, practicing how to prepare the primary ingredients for potions from the raw plants. She knew, in some vague sense, that it was a useful task to learn and that herbalism was an important topic, but plants bored her, and she was already irritated after having been shown up by Sabrina that morning in conjuring objects, so when she looked up and saw Fringilla hovering uncertainly next to her, she rolled her eyes.

“Couldn’t get along without me?” she asked rather acidly, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the librarian—a thick-necked, thin-browed woman who Yennefer had the vague sense was older than anyone else at Aretuza, even Tissaia.

“No,” Fringilla said, “that’s not—I found something interesting.” She glanced at the librarian, who seemed utterly unaware of either of them but probably just didn’t care. Then she lowered her voice. “I mixed copal with skullcap instead of arnica, and…” A smile burst across her lips as though she couldn’t hold it back, which was so unusual for her that Yennefer finally took an interest.

“What happened?” she asked, also speaking as quietly as she could without whispering. Whispers were suspicious; murmuring was just good library etiquette.

“It felt _so good,_ ” Fringilla said, smiling wider for a second before pressing her lips together to stifle it. “And you can see things, and hear things—it only lasted for half an hour, but—do you want to come try it?”

It sounded like Fringilla had accidentally happened upon something that was utterly forbidden, like all the really good magic was. Yennefer didn’t even bother to close the book she hadn’t been reading. “Show me,” she said, and followed Fringilla down to the herbalism laboratory.

There was a faint sweet smell in the air, with a hint of something exotic Yennefer’s nose couldn’t pin down. She watched as Fringilla mixed the herbs in her mortar, then scraped up the paste and transferred it to a shallow glass bowl, working nimbly despite her withered hand.

(Tissaia had announced in front of everyone, that first day—after saying a quick spell for the pain—that Fringilla’s hand would be healed when she learned to heal it herself, and not before. Of course, healing magic was part of the third year’s curriculum, so Fringilla had had to adapt.)

Fringilla’s face was set in focused lines as she worked. She transferred the bowl to a frame that held it above a candle, which she lit with a flick of her fingers. “Now lean over it,” she said to Yennefer, doing so herself. “Breathe it in, deep as you can.”

Briefly, Yennefer considered the potential danger of breathing an untested, unapproved mixture of herbs. They would learn healing magic next year, but next year wasn’t now, and she didn’t fancy finding out what Tissaia would say if she saw them.

Then she thought, _Oh, the hell with it,_ and leaned in, bumping her head against Fringilla’s, and took a deep breath right to the bottom of her lungs.

The effects on both of them were immediate. Yennefer stumbled backwards to keep her balance as a wave of euphoria crashed over her so heavily it felt like a physical shove, and she saw Fringilla grip the worktable tightly as if she might fall over too.

“Gods,” Yennefer muttered, and then their eyes met and they both burst out laughing.

“Shhh,” Fringilla said, though she was laughing as she spoke, “shhh, they’ll hear us, you have to be quiet.”

“I can’t,” Yennefer said, but she managed to restrain her full-throated laughter after a few more seconds, choking it down to a giggle that seemed to go on forever. “It feels—I feel—” It seemed suddenly very important that Fringilla understand her. “I feel like I could _fly,_ ” she murmured finally. Her skin shivered all over like she was being touched, and truly it seemed like she would start to levitate at any moment from the sheer force of how lovely it all felt.

“I know,” said Fringilla, beaming. “I thought I was flying, the first time. You might get confused, it’s okay—” Her feet moved as she talked, executing what looked like elegant dance steps, and Yennefer watched in fascination. A moment later, though, she stepped on her own toes and almost fell down, tripping heavily into Yennefer’s arms.

Her unexpected weight made Yennefer stumble backwards, and they slid to the ground as they gave up the struggle to right themselves. For several minutes they lay there side by side, Fringilla’s arm wrapped around her and clinging, and they laughed softly, and Yennefer thought that this was better than everything else—better than her frequent rendezvous with Istredd, better even than Tissaia’s sharp nod and hint of a smile when Yennefer excelled at something on the first try.

Fringilla was warm against her, her hair a soft cloud under Yennefer’s fingers. Idly, Yennefer stroked down her back, tilting her head to stare at the vaulted ceiling of the laboratory. The burnished brown of the wooden beams began to glisten and vibrate as she watched, and she made a soft noise of delight.

“What are you seeing?” Fringilla said, lifting her head, lips quirked. “I saw so many colors—and I _heard_ them, too—”

As she said it, her words became reality, ribbons of cobalt blue and brilliant candy red dancing before Yennefer’s eyes. “Red and blue,” she said, “I see—but they’re _more,_ somehow. More real. More...everything.”

Fringilla nodded. “Yeah, that’s what it does.” With a pleased grin that Yennefer had never seen on her face before, she reached out a tentative hand and brushed her fingers against Yennefer’s face. “Your eyes aren’t usually this purple, I think.”

With some effort, Yennefer tore her gaze away from the dancing colors and looked back at Fringilla. She thought vaguely that if she weren’t in an altered state she would very much resent Fringilla touching her face, but she _didn’t_ mind, not at all. It felt good.

She opened her mouth to say that, but what came out instead was, “Why aren’t you ever happy?”

Fringilla’s brow wrinkled as she stared down at Yennefer’s face. Their bodies were still pressed together, a sweet heavy warmth like a quilt on a cold night. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. She sounded sad, and Yennefer could _feel_ her sadness winding its way around her own body like vines of ice.

“I know I’m a bitch to you,” Yennefer said.

Fringilla shrugged. “You’re like that to everyone, though. It’s not…” She frowned, as though she were trying to solve a difficult equation. As Yennefer looked at her the colorful ribbons returned, this time wreathing Fringilla’s face, reflecting colored tints onto her dark skin like stained glass. She was extraordinarily beautiful, Yennefer thought, and reached up a hand to touch her.

“Everyone’s shit to you, though, aren’t they?” she said, tracing her fingers lightly around Fringilla’s frown. “Because of your uncle. It isn’t fair. You _are_ good.”

“I…” Fringilla bit her lip, staring into Yennefer’s eyes like she was under a spell.

It wasn’t clear which of them kissed the other first, their mouths clashing together twice before they managed something better and without so many teeth. Yennefer knew immediately that this was Fringilla’s first kiss, and it plucked a tender string inside her that she hadn’t known was there.

“Here,” she said when they stopped and Fringilla’s hot breath swirled around her face, “just do what I do, okay? Let me show you.”

Fringilla nodded and Yennefer rolled on top of her, then kissed her again, taking the lead like she’d learned to do with Istredd. Istredd had taught her how to kiss just like this, in fact, and she wondered if he’d felt the way she did now—like holding a delicate young bird in her hands, like Fringilla was something precious and breakable and unspeakably beautiful. Yennefer kissed her as best she knew how, and after every flick of her tongue or nibble of her lip she paused to let Fringilla do it back to her.

Fringilla turned out to be a very quick learner, as quick as she ever was in class, and the flush of arousal that began to creep up Yennefer’s body smelled like fresh fruit and cinnamon. The colors were back, floating behind her closed eyes, ribbons and swirls of deep pink, now, as she hitched her leg over Fringilla’s hip and started to rub against her.

The surprised little noise Fringilla made into her mouth was sky blue, and Yennefer broke away to laugh at how foolish the whole thing was, the colors and the smells and the sweet good tingle all over her skin—though how much of that was the concoction they’d inhaled and how much was just from the way their legs entwined, the way they began to rut against each other’s thighs like desperate beasts—who could say.

“It feels _good,_ ” Fringilla breathed, with the tone of someone making a marvelous new discovery, and Yennefer couldn’t help kissing her again.

Time seemed to stretch out forever after that, like honey dripping slowly off a spoon. Yennefer thought she might have climaxed once, but she felt so good all over she honestly couldn’t tell. It was easy to tell, though, when Fringilla shook in her arms and drove up hard against Yennefer’s hip, spilling rays of pleasure like sunshine all over them both. Yennefer kissed her through it, so she could make all the noise she wanted, and when it was over Fringilla buried her face in Yennefer’s throat, still trembling. Yennefer rolled off of her so they were side by side again and stroked her back in little circles, watching the dancing ribbons on the ceiling slowly start to fade.

They breathed together for a while, not speaking, as the effects gradually departed from them. Yennefer thought that she might feel revulsion once she was sober again, or at least a strong desire to move away, but no such feeling came. It was Fringilla who separated them at last, sitting up and brushing down her hair with her hands self-consciously as she rose to her feet.

So Yennefer stood up too, and—still without speaking—they cleaned up the work table, disposing of the telltale plant matter and magicking the glassware clean. The candle had burned down to a stub while they were indisposed, but the wax was still soft and easy to peel off the tabletop.

Finally there was nothing left to do except leave. They looked at each other, and Yennefer wanted to say something—promise something, maybe, except what could she promise? Her sisters at Aretuza were not her friends; she’d known that since the night she’d snuck out of her room and watched Tissaia transform Anica. And Yennefer was who she was. One silly afternoon couldn’t change that.

Still— “Thanks,” she said as Fringilla walked out the door, and managed a real smile when Fringilla turned her head back to look at her. “For showing me. It was fun.”

“Thank you too,” Fringilla said, looking down with a bashful smile of her own. “For, uh. You know.”

She nodded, and after a moment of silence Fringilla vanished down the hall. Yennefer waited for a minute before leaving, though, trying to catch the last hint of that rich sweet scent—but it was gone now as if it had never been there.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://some-stars.tumblr.com/) for Witcher shitposts, WIP updates, occasional prompt fills, and just to chat about this extremely ridiculous show. :D? :D? Also, if you would like to reblog this story, you can [do so here!](https://some-stars.tumblr.com/post/645325372661039104/go-ask-alice-somestars-the-witcher-tv)


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